


Mini-Us

by MelonEthylene



Category: Hatfilms, The Yogscast
Genre: Fluff, Multi, Urban Magic Yogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 02:01:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3470258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelonEthylene/pseuds/MelonEthylene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ross has been acting strange and Smith and Trott are determined to find out why. Just some good ol’ embarrassing fluff. Takes place (mostly) before Sips joined the court.<br/>Critiques (and prompts) are welcome!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mini-Us

Trott, as always, was the first to notice Ross’ strange behavior. Smith caught on soon after, and wouldn’t stop pondering it the moment he realized the gargoyle was acting weird. For a week or two, Ross had constantly been finding reasons they should leave the house and he should stay behind by himself. Smith, never one to tone down anything, immediately began spinning conspiracy theories.

"Or maybe," he said through a mouthful of eggs one morning, after finishing a long elaborate tale about the illuminati and geese, "It’s an affair." 

Trott rolled his eyes, "Firstly, don’t talk with your mouth full mate, it’s disgusting." Smith grumbled something along the lines of "You’re disgusting," into his cup of coffee. Trott ignored him and continued, "Secondly, no one in this city would dare touch him. Well…" Trott paused, "No one he’d sneak around with like this." Smith opened his mouth to protest but Trott put a finger up to stop him. Though Smith immediately smacked the smaller man’s hand down, much like a cat, he did not speak. "Lastly, it’s Ross, mate! Does this sound familiar? Built to be loyal, protective beyond fault, bonded to you" Trott pointed his fork at Smith to highlight his last word and spilled some scrambled egg on the table, "by blood, and so on, stipulations, magic, you know the deal. Not only wouldn’t he, he couldn’t."

"Yeah but Trott,"  
"What, Smith."  
Smith underlined his single point by motioning with his now empty coffee cup, "Drugs."  
Trott gave him a look of confusion and incredulity, "Wh-what does that even mean," he said laughing a little.  
"Just drugs mate." Smith said, nodding wisely.  
"I don’t think Ross is on drugs," he put emphasis on "Ross" and "drugs" as if to highlight how ridiculous it was that they were even in the same sentence.  
Smith bent low over his plate, "It’s always the quiet ones Trott." He said ominously, shoveling more food into his mouth, "It’sh ‘lwaysh fhe quiet ‘nes."

——-

Smith managed to last a whole additional day before he ran out of patience and pushed for them to act. Trott would probably have waited but, in truth, he was just as curious. They waited until the afternoon to put their simple, but effective, plan into action. At Ross’ urging they headed out to see some movie, leaving Ross alone in their squat house. They hopped into Smith’s car, drove a precise loop around the block, and parked at the apartment building next to their place. They snuck into the alleyway in order to break into their living room window, a part of the plan Smith requested and was wholly unnecessary. Going through the front door would’ve been just as stealthy, but Smith wasn’t about to pass up a chance to show off his breaking and entering skills. His breaking being much more proficient than his entering, he just barely managed to catch the TV he knocked into as he made his way through the window. Trott shot him a warning glare. Smith grinned back sheepishly and shrugged before making his way further inside.

Trott had a reasonable bet that, whatever Ross was up to, he’d be in the “Rec Room”. The Rec Room had started off as some strange combination of a stash room for stolen goods and a board game room where they’d routinely try and strangle each other over monopoly (namely before they even started, fighting over the top hat piece). Since Ross had moved in, he’d gradually taken over and turned it into his lair, while the family feud area moved to the living room, and the stolen stuff to a warehouse nearby. The end result was a nest of a room with blankets and pillows covering the floor and random junk stacked near the walls. This is where Ross could usually be found when he was left alone, reorganizing the junk into different stacks, working on some project of theirs, or just looking out the window (the only window with any kind of view).

Trott and Smith now headed there stealthily. Or attempted to be stealthy. Smith wasn’t very delicate and was somewhat prone to bump into things and step right on where the floor creaked worst. That was why he was generally left at the window after they’d broken in. Coming to the top of the stairs they headed left down the corridor, passing the bedroom door, and stopped in front of the Rec Room. From behind the door they could hear muffled, off key humming. Ross. Smith looked at Trott and grinned. Trott smirked back and gave him a thumbs up. In one quick movement, the kelpie kicked the door in, yelling loudly, “HONEY, WE’RE HOME,” Ross swore loudly from his place on the floor, and scrambled to hide what he’d been working on. Trott leaned around Smith to see as the kelpie exclaimed, laughing, “Holy shit mate, is that us?”

Strewn around the gargoyle were various bits of thread and cloth, along with a basket full of sewing supplies. In front of Ross, what he was trying and failing to hide, were two lumpy looking dolls. Though their shapes were rough and the stitching a mess, they were clearly meant to be small stuffed Smith and Trott.

“What the fuck you guys!” Ross said, his voice going high pitched in embarrassment and indignation. He wasn’t blushing exactly, he was made out of stone after all, but from his expression it was clear if he could’ve his face would’ve been a tomato. “You’re not supposed to be here for like, fucking forever!” Smith ignored him, walking over and reaching down to snatch his puppet self from Ross’ lap.

“Look mate!” Smith exclaimed, holding the doll up for Trott to see. “It’s fucking me!” He turned the doll around and looked at its face, tapping one of its button eyes. “It’s a little serial killer-y though. It’s not got my charm.” Smith smirked.

“What charm?” Said Trott and Ross in pretty much perfect unison.

“Hey fuck you Trott. I’m not the one making dolls of ourselves!” Smith looked at Ross, “I’ve got to ask mate, why dolls?”

Ross sputtered, “I saw some thought they’d be easy to- well y’know cu- you know what?” He interrupted himself, voice pitching up in sound and volume “You guys can GFY yeah? I don’t have to explain myself to you! Fuck you guys! GFY!” Smith raised one hand in surrender, backing towards the door, though he was still laughing. Ross continued to glare at Smith and mutter under his breath.

Trott meanwhile, had made his way over and picked his up. Ross had just been sowing on the second eye when they’d interrupted him. Trott quickly sowed on a few more loops attaching it more securely, before tying the knot and breaking the string, letting the needle fall carelessly to the ground. Barely even noticing, Ross mechanically picked it up and put it in the basket. “I think it’s quite cute mate.” Trott said, looking at the doll.

Smith groaned from the doorway, “Trott, don’t enable his weird fetish.”

Ross threw a pillow at him, “Fuck you Smith, it’s not a fetish! At least I’m not obsessed with literal shit!”

Trott sucked in a breath and looked at Smith, “He’s got a point mate. You do talk about shit an awful lot.” Smith huffed angrily and pointed at Ross, “This isn’t about me, it’s about Ross’ creepy doll fetish and the fact you think it’s fucking cute,”

Ross looked up at Trott hopefully, “Do you really think they’re cute?”

Trott looked at him for a moment before breaking out into a grin, “Nah mate I think it’s pretty fucking creepy.”

"Aw, FUCK you!" Yelled Ross throwing another pillow that Trott dodged as he raced from the room, "Go suck a massive bag of dicks you absolute assholes!" The last of the insults became muffled as Trott hurriedly closed the door behind them. Smith turned to Trott, grinning. "Well," he said looking at the dolls, "Least it wasn’t drugs."

——-

A couple of days later Ross woke up in an empty bed with sunlight streaming through the window. He’d done most of the heavy lifting the night before, his bat getting more use than it had in weeks, so had earned a day sleeping in. Yawning, he padded down the stairs in his boxers, looking around for any sign of Smith and Trott. They weren’t home but on the kitchen counter was a note in Trott’s neat handwriting, saying they’d gone to get donuts for breakfast (psa: please do not actually eat donuts for breakfast kids, try oatmeal instead!).

On top of the note was a doll. It had dark hair with two small scraps of blue cloth as horns. In one area the stitches were an incredible mess, (even worse than Ross’ stitching) the doll actually coming apart a little to show the cotton inside. The rest of the doll looked incredibly neat, not quite professional, but close. Clearly, that was where Trott had taken over. Ross picked up the doll and smiled happily to himself.

——-

After some light teasing the first few days, no one mentioned the dolls again. Even when they all mysteriously appeared together on the windowsill of the bedroom, Smith’s moved from the floor where he’d tossed it, Trott’s from a bedside drawer. They weren’t mentioned when a faint shimmering smelling of sea breeze and fish appeared over them, though Ross gave Trott a sidelong glance when he noticed. Even when other sown creatures of steadily increasing quality began appearing around the house, nothing was mentioned. They were just accepted as Ross’ quirk, or habit. The same as Trott’s occasional fostering of lost or injured sea mammals, and Smith’s…well, Smith’s everything. Trott even started selling them at his “adult gifts” shop, and Smith would sometimes market them from his car. Needless to say, they weren’t very successful. There was just something off putting about a basket of stuffed creatures in a sex shop and an incredibly attractive man leaning out of his car window offering to sell this random doll.

Nothing was said until there was a new surprise addition to their little court. Some Canadian dude, a mortal who, for reasons none of them could explain, fit in with them perfectly. He didn’t notice the dolls until there quietly appeared a mini-him at the window (of much better quality, a year of practice had certainly paid off). When he did finally notice he went into hysterics, tears streaming down his face as he managed, “What the fuck is that? Holy shit guys, what the actual fuck,” in a mangled voice. The other three just smiled and shrugged at each other, not really sure how to explain. It was just an accepted part of their life now, the four kind of creepy, kind of cute dolls on the windowsill and the protective ocean barrier around them. Trott stepped forward and said simply, “It’s us mate, it’s mini-us.”


End file.
